


Bound

by orphan_account



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, basically Izaya not liking the idea of being tied to anyone at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is difficult to keep his teeth from clenching once the corners of his lips twitch downwards, a scowl in process that never really stays on his face for more than a second. Sometimes he wonders just when exactly does he proves to be vulnerable, when is he watching, are his reactions being recorded for further analysis? So many questions that he sadly doesn't know how to answer. Asking might as well be useless.</p>
<p>Humiliation was never something he appreciated.</p>
<p>But was that bad? To be fully dependent on his pride, to know to what extents he can go, to never hesitate due to something as stupid as lack of self-esteem. No. Of course not. Still, his pride is not everything, and certainly not big enough to fill every crack in his mask. He is not lonely. He has never been, he tells himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Immicolia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immicolia/gifts), [Hibibun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibibun/gifts).



> This was inspired by Immicolia's take on the oh so popular "Soulmates" trope, in which they have a tattoo somewhere on their bodies that gives a hint as to who is their other half.
> 
> Izaya is not very fond of this.

It starts the same way as their usual bickering.

Pale fingers move accross the keyboard as fast as lightning, not stilling for a second. There is no need to wait a few seconds for a reply when the person you are talking to barely takes a couple to type their own reply. It is a constant, neverending circle of reading, feeling offended, and delivering what would account as a punch should they not be talking in a chatroom.

Their words are not as vicious as they could be; after all, they both know there is no purpose to such levels of hostility. It is much more entertaining to try and get the other to get angrier, to show some unexpected yet awaited kind of reaction that would tip the balance to their favor. When it comes to such emotionless beings, there is no other defeat than being forced to give up their façade.

Whether both are human or not, the informant does not know.

It is both disheartening and infuriating, the way he cannot seem to be able to track down the slightest trace of the individual talking to him in this precise moment. Someone like him should have managed to find even the name of his precedesors, and yet...

And  _yet_.

With a click of his tongue he disregards those thoughts, choosing to focus on the letters appearing on the screen.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

I can't tell, Orihara. Did you fall asleep on me?

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Oh? What is this? You, oblivious to something? Incredible.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Ah, I knew that would be asking for too much. I would welcome you back here, but your presence here is nothing but a very annoying distraction. You seem to believe this is just another one of your game boards, which I find hilarious.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

And why is that?

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Why, a mighty informant like you, asking me a question? Incredible.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

I find you using my own words against me to be uncreative and childish.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

My mistake. I thought such childishness would be something easy for you to relate to.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Obviously not.

 

Ah, it is so easy to let time pass like this, to just use each other as a tool for stress relief. At least,  _Izaya_  does. Unfortunately, sometimes this kind of conversations drive him to the edge instead of relaxing him. It can't be helped. Very few manage to live up to his expectations, and that exactly is why something as trivial as destiny wasn't going to control him, interesting or not.

How pitiful it would be, to do nothing other than crumble under the pressure of the marks that seem to set his skin on fire everytime he visits a certain chatroom. Nonsense, he thinks. A particular strong placebo, that is all there is to it.

The mere thought of being born into this world tied to something within it is  ** _revolting._**

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Aren't you going to answer my question, then?

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

I thought it would be obvious. This is something I set up for business, not to serve as a playground. What amuses me even further is the fact that you don't seem to be as busy watching your “beloved” humans lately.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

I have been otherwise occupied.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Really now.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Would I lie to you?

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

But of course. So what is it, going to whine and cry about it, Orihara?

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Ah, I bet you would love to see me doing that, wouldn't you.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

I would rather not have to deal with you at all. Then again, it is way too entertaining to see you react to loneliness.

 

It is difficult to keep his teeth from clenching once the corners of his lips twitch downwards, a scowl in process that never really stays on his face for more than a second. Sometimes he wonders just when exactly does he proves to be vulnerable, when is he watching, are his reactions being recorded for further analysis? So many questions that he sadly doesn't know how to answer. Asking might as well be useless.

Humiliation was never something he appreciated.

But was that bad? To be fully dependent on his pride, to know to what extents he can go, to never hesitate due to something as stupid as lack of self-esteem. No. Of course not. Still, his pride is not everything, and certainly not big enough to fill every crack in his mask. He is not  _lonely_. He has never been, he tells himself.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Heh. Now you are just imagining things. You know, pulling out arguments out of nowhere does not give you any points, Tsukumoya.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Are they really nonexistent? Your lack of time for your partner seems to say otherwise. Then again, perhaps the pseudogod was born faulty?

 

_Orihara Izaya_

That is a bunch of lies and you know it. A certain someone is nothing but a stalker that has probably gone through every single medical report there is about me. I am perfect in every way.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Health wise, perhaps. Nothing more than that. However, I have to say I am curious. Birthmarks are not included in said reports, which leads me to the conclusion that they are either not there at all, or that someone deleted important information. How troublesome.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Did they now?

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

You are not as good of a liar as you think you are, Orihara. Why lie, why hide, other than to cover up the fact that there is something clearly wrong with you? Your ego won't let you have a single bad thing... apart from your attitude. Could it be that there is no one out there for you? How sad.

 

Orihara Izaya

Soulmates aren't my thing, that is all.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Aw, what is wrong? Tired of watching your humans be happy together? Envy is a sin, you know.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

I do not believe in something as foolish as being bound to someone for the rest of your existence. The marks are nothing but a bother on my skin, something to be ignored rather than admired. Why would I reach out to one of my humans if I love all of them equally? It sounds pretty illogical.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Your marks probably spell “Danger, bad influence. Please turn back.”

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Haha, very funny. There are no words.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Oh?

 

No words to spell what he already knows and yet refuses to accept; to seal the deal with a whisper of the name of his supposed soulmate. Absolutely nothing.

His free hand clenches into a fist, composure starting to break. He can see the curiosity in that message, and there is nothing about it that he likes. Not when this is a subject he loathes; touchy, something that has him about to step backwards, getting between a rock and a hard place. There is as much danger in this apparently innocent question as he can fathom, because suddenly one of his blades seems to press against the back of his neck; nagging,  ** _burning_ _,_**  a reminder that he isn't allowed to forget for more than a second.

If this didn't involve him, he would have laughed at how absurd this all was.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Prove it then. Those who have no names written on their skin are less than a mere 0.000000001%, aren't they? Why would I believe that you are part of such an exclusive collective? You are nothing special.

 

Ah, that is true, to an extent. It is not that he doesn't have a name, but rather the nature of the tattoo he bears, black and unusual and completely  _unwanted_.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

...And why should I do as you say? I have no reason to cater to your wishes, nor do I intend to.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

It is difficult to check just how high above others you are, specially given how you wish nothing but to be different from those around you. As pitiful as that is, I am offering you a chance to prove it, Orihara. Is my offer not generous enough?

 

_Orihara Izaya_

Please picture me snorting. Or perhaps you have already seen me doing that just now, since you seem to have taken a liking to my webcam.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

I am merely saying you need some kind of proof.

 

_Orihara Izaya_

You are way too annoying for my taste. Please suffocate and die.

 

And no, the damn marks don't seem to catch fire at the words that seep into his mind, too heavy and making him suddenly hope he could take them back. But no, he won't, because he knows better than to let himself be led by something as ineffective as the chemicals trying to will a reaction out of him, twisting his psyche and thoughts into something that he does not agree with. That person staring back at him and seeking human warmth is not him, he tells himself. The reflection is pathetic, weak---- too dependent on someone.

He is not going to turn into a victim of his own hormones.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_

Is it that difficult for you to admit you are just lying? It is not like I actually expected you to do something, but here we are, seeing nothing unusual. Your methods to catch people's attention are getting as old as you. So many lies will make you drown. By all means, continue.

 

His words might as well give him a headache, and a glance to the pile of paperwork on the other side of his desk seems to disapprove. Yes, it was his decision to come there willingly, fully aware of what would and could happen, but it never crossed his mind that the annoyance typing away somewhere in the city he loved so much would start asking about this subject. It is not fair, nor comfortable, and the raven looks at the webcam with utter disgust, completely sure now about whether he is being watched through it or not.

Izaya doesn't move at all at first, fingers still on the keys as he ponders what would be more humiliating. There is no way he can tell and make sure that his usual flawless thinking hasn't been influenced by that laughing muse called fate, mocking him as he realizes his teasing will only get worse if he doesn”t decide to show him what he wants to see.

_Who is being the child now, Tsukumoya?_

Bony fingers hook on the lower part of his shirt, tugging on it until he finds himself naked from the waist up. The last thing he desires is another remark about this, so when he turns his body so that his back faces the camera, he doesn”t move. And it is stupid and impossible and probably just a fragment of his imagination, but he can feel him staring right at the nape of his neck, making the tattoo feel alive in a way that shouldn't be this embarrassing.

Black vertical lines go down the back of his neck, composing the intrincate design that you would only find on the surface of a microchip. They look oddly natural on his skin, as if they had decided to follow their own path downwards as he grew older.

No words are in sight. Just below his hairline, a combination of numbers can be seen, their size so small that they seem to clasp around the back of his neck like a choker.

010101000111001101110101011010110111010101101101011011110111100101100001

There is only silence for a few minutes, mouth running dry as the informant unconsciously darts out his tongue to moisten his chapped lips. No, he isn't  _nervous_. No, he isn't in  _denial_. The mere thought of him actually belonging to someone is just wrong.

A beep resonates in his apartment, and he slowly turns to face the flickering screen of the chat.

 

This time, only an address is there to laugh at his widening eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The binary code stands for 'Tsukumoya', so that is why he is not exactly saying the truth and yet not lying when he says there are no words included in it. Technically, there are only numbers, so.
> 
> Anyways I hope this totally self-indulgent thing was enjoyable for someone. Might write what happens once he goes to Tsukumoya's appartment, I don't know. Bye~


End file.
